


A Sprig of Elfroot

by dragonagemage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, the relationship can be read as entirely platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagemage/pseuds/dragonagemage
Summary: The Chantry took everything from her. It made her beloved tranquil as punishment for her own deeds. Burdened with guilt and sorrow, but she was at least in his company - until the events at the Conclave took even that. The demon she allowed to possess her could not bring her love back as it promised, but it could help her save another. Could saving Maddox be her chance of redemption?





	A Sprig of Elfroot

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of an Inquisitor/Samson fic I am working on. What if the Inquisitor managed to save Maddox? More an experiment in writing then an actual story. Featuring my Inquisitor, an amalgamation of Trevelyan and the desire demon possessing her, the result of a failed attempt to restore her lover. Undoing death was beyond Yearning's power, but it does leave her in a unique position to undo the rite of Tranquility. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. I would appreciate feedback, as this is the first time I am actually posting. Thank you for reading.

They rush forth through the ruin - she was rarely so aware of Yearning as right then - she throws herself upon her knees by the dying man, heedless of the debris littering the floor, broken glass and ceramics and lyrium. They lay their cold, damp hands on the sides of his face. The tranquil opens his mouth and screams - a horrible, rending sound. It is Yearning that stills his blood, probes his mind, and seconds later she is pouring the antidote past Maddox' parched lips. He goes limp in her arms, but it is Yearning, once more, that forces his heart to beat - a slow, steady rhythm, pumping the antidote through his veins. They rush back to Skyhold post-haste.

Maddox is unresponsive for two weeks, unaware and cold and death-like, but he has been torn from the clutches of death.  
It takes him three weeks to take his first, stumbling steps around the Skyhold garden, quiet and pale, like a ghost, his eyes shimmering with tears as he regarded the budding elfroot. The brand stands out stark against the pallor of his skin, only a painful reminder of something Maddox escaped.  
Pale and shivering, he smiles when he sees the Inquisitor.

"I should thank you," he says in a quiet voice, when she joins him for a slow walk around the garden. She is careful to match her steps with his, careful not to overtax the recovering man.  
They talk quietly, and both understand.

"I should thank you," he says quietly, "but I remember. Everything."  
He looks haunted, and she feels her heart break.  
Would Sylen have been like that? Was it selfish of her to want him back, to want him to remember?  
But Yearning is a minion of Imshael. Yearning is softer, and relentless. Yearning can also set the world ablaze. Yearning can be a force like a wildfire, unyielding and all-consuming.  
When did she begin to yearn to protect Maddox, to give up on the man who was gone and help the one she _could_ yet save?  
When did Yearning become Kindness? When did it become Principle, become Protection?  
If a mage's heart can turn a spirit into a demon, could a mage convert one back?  
It was then that Amelia Trevelyan resolved to save Raleigh Samson. If she saved him, perhaps she as well could be saved?

She'd walk with Maddox every day. They would walk through Skyhold's gardens, quietly talking about snow and the fertile earth and things that grow.  
She placed a sprig of elfroot behind his ear, and he laughed. A pure, undiminished sound; his joy echoed through the garden like silver bells.  
Soft sunlight spilled through gentle green, lent color to his pallid skin, his ash-brown hair just beginning to grow out, gilded his fading scar. And she thought he was beautiful, beyond beautiful. The sunburst would never truly fade. But in the gentle sun, it lost its threatening meaning.  
And the sun - it felt like spring.  
She could almost forget the approaching winter.


End file.
